


The new beginning

by fromthedeskoftheraven



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Afterlife, Battle of Five Armies Fix-It, F/M, Reunions, The Mapmaker Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-12
Updated: 2017-01-12
Packaged: 2018-09-17 02:54:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9300938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fromthedeskoftheraven/pseuds/fromthedeskoftheraven
Summary: “Death is just another path, one that we all must take. The grey rain-curtain of this world rolls back, and all turns to silver glass, and then you see it…White shores, and beyond, a far green country under a swift sunrise.” – J.R.R. TolkienAn epilogue to the Mapmaker Series.





	

The luxurious bedroom in Erebor’s royal chambers was quiet. The King’s attendants and healers alike had been dismissed from the peaceful room, illuminated only by the soft light of fading lanterns, and Thorin was weary.

So very weary.

He lay in the large bed, thick waves of silver hair framing a pale face. His blue eyes roved weakly over his children surrounding him, brave despite their pain: Nessa, his precious, only daughter, tenderly holding Thorin’s hand as she sat at his bedside with reddened eyes; Frerin, stoic and solemn, even now beginning to feel the weight of the crown; Thrain standing steadfast at his elder brother’s side, offering support and friendship as he had done since their childhood; Vili wearing a helpless, bewildered expression, as though he had refused to believe that Death could come for his formidable father, even in old age; Thror, Thorin’s last-born and the darling of his mother, letting his silent tears stream freely down his cheeks to dampen his beard.

A weight seemed to sit on Thorin’s chest, making every breath laborious, and his eyes would close of their own accord, though he struggled to keep them open. A hand rested gently on his shoulder, and Frerin’s voice reached his ears, low and quavering with unshed tears.

“You don’t have to fight, Father. It’s all right. Everything will be all right.”

Thorin sighed, the shadow of a smile crossing his lips. He summoned what strength remained to give an encouraging squeeze to Nessa’s hand and nodded, closing his eyes at last to let the welcome darkness engulf him.

* * *

The glare of bright sunshine met Thorin’s eyes when he opened them once more to find himself lying comfortably on a grassy bluff under a brilliant blue sky. The turf beneath him was vivid with the green of every Spring he had ever known and dotted with jewel-toned wildflowers, and he blinked against the light and vibrant color, casting a wondering glance about him to seek his bearings. 

Strangely, he felt himself stronger, more awake, somehow _lighter_ than he had been in…oh, longer than he could remember. The stiffness in his joints and the ache in his muscles had vanished as he sprang to his feet, and taking a deep, easy, chest-filling breath of the cool, fresh air, he had the wild thought that he might like to run or dance, or even have a sparring match.

A salt breeze ruffled his hair, and he shaded his eyes to look at the horizon over a calm sea, the sun dropping diamonds on its rippling waves. He impulsively settled on the idea of taking off his boots to walk to the water’s edge and bent to undo their buckles.

“Thorin.”

He froze at the sound of the voice – that most beloved and most unexpected voice – and slowly, his heart thrilling with reckless hope, he turned.

It took all of his restraint to stop himself crying out.

There she stood, not ashen and frail as when he had kissed her goodbye for the last time in the shadowy chill of the mountain’s depths, but beautiful, smiling, radiant in the full bloom of youth, with the sun’s glow captured in the loose strands of her hair and the glittering drape of her gown. A thousand memories came rushing back to him at the sight of her, and his hands trembled as he stepped forward.

“Elanor,” he breathed, and gathered her into his arms, inhaling the scent of her skin, stroking her hair, remembering after long years how perfectly her body fitted to his when he held her. He pulled back to feast his eyes on her face once again, to cup her cheek in his hand, revel in the softness of her lips pressed to his palm. “Oh, my Elanor. _Amrâlimê_. I’ve missed you so.”

“I’ve missed _you_ , my darling,” she beamed, her eyes sparkling with welling tears. “Every day.”

His fingers caressed her face, traced her arms, brought her hands to his lips, all while he stared at her as though he would commit the moment to memory for lonelier times.

“I have dreamed of you thus,” he murmured, “but it has never felt so real.”

Her smile was tender, sympathetic.

“It’s not a dream, Thorin,” she said gently, “your eyes have closed on Erebor for the last time.”

Bittersweet realization dawned plainly on his face, and she went on, gathering his hands into her own, pressing them over her heart.

“You have done _well_ , my love…with our children, with your kingdom, for your people. You’ve labored long and given much…and the time has come to take your rest.”

Thorin was silent for a long moment, blinking against the tears that gathered and spilled to his cheeks for the joy of this sweetest reunion and for the finality of the closed chapter that lay behind. His voice was heavy with emotion when he spoke again.

“Everything I did, I did for them…for you.” 

“I know,” she promised. “You’ve made us all proud. Now lay down your burdens, husband, and rest.”

“Oh, my sweet, to be at your side again,” he sighed, his eyes crinkling with a watery smile as he shook his head in amazement, “it is a joy beyond imagining.”

“My Thorin, my heart,” she smiled, smoothing her hand over his hair, soft and dark as a raven’s wing, “we are finished with goodbyes.”

His hands cradled her face, bringing her close to press a fervent kiss to her lips. A tremor of joy, of relief, of belonging coursed through his body to taste once again the sweetness of her mouth, the salt of their mingled tears, and his arms enveloped her again, clutching her warm softness to himself.

When they could bear to part, they walked hand in hand along the sandy shore, drifting between fond reminiscences and companionable silence, still exchanging kisses and giddy smiles that recalled to him their courting days and sneaking away from the company to snatch precious moments alone together.

Thorin came to a stop on a cliffside, drawing Elanor into an affectionate embrace while he watched the gulls that swooped and cried overhead and the glittering swells below, breathing the sea air and awash in a contentment more deep and secure than he’d ever known before. He was lost in idle thought when there was a little nudge of her hand on his shoulder, and she was beaming at him and nodding toward the expanse of grassy field behind him.

“I’m not the only one who has awaited your coming.”

On a distant bluff stood an achingly familiar figure, strong and straight-backed, with a lush, gray beard flowing proudly over his chest and a pair of piercing blue eyes that looked kindly on Thorin. Beside him, her arm linked with his, was a dwarrowdam of stately beauty, and it suddenly seemed to Thorin that the scent of a long-forgotten perfume and strains of a cradle song floated on the breeze.

“Father…Mother…”

His breath caught in his throat at the appearing of a young dwarf with an unruly mane of dark hair and a laughing face, his body robust and unsullied by the wounds that had felled him at Azanulbizar.

Elanor’s arms tightened around him, comforting, steadying, and he found himself clinging to her, drawing strength from her support as he had done so many times before.

“I have long imagined this reunion,” he confessed in a voice hoarse with feeling, “but now that it is at hand, I find myself lacking for words.”

“You will find that you have the words when the time comes,” she promised, and he nodded, touching his forehead to hers with a grateful smile.

“I’m ready.”

Elanor smiled, the familiar pride in her eyes giving him all the encouragement he needed, and his heart swelled with hopeful anticipation as she gently released him from her arms to take him by the hand.

“Come.”


End file.
